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Wednesday, September 20, 2000
For comments, contact Clay McCuistion at 864-4924 or e-mail features@kansan.com
8A
Brian Wilson performs his classic album in Denver and the Kansan's Clay McCuistion makes the trip
By Clay McCulstlon
By Clay McCulston features@kansan.com Kansan features editor
T
My obsession.
this is the story of an obsession.
My obsession.
Like I said. obsessive.
For five years I've been devoted to the music of Brian Wilson—former singer, songwriter and producer for the Beach Boys. I own the compact discs, videos, books and T-shirts. I belong to the computer mailing list devoted to discussing his recordings. I've labored over a Web site devoted to his solo albums.
Last Saturday, Sept. 16, Brian Wilson played a concert in Denver. I was there. It cost me hundreds of dollars. I rode a bus 12 hours to get there. But I was able to see the man called a "genius" by legions of fellow musicians perform his masterpiece of an album —Pet Sounds—in concert with a symphony orchestra.
The glow of the three-hour show is still with me — as is the sleep deprivation. I don't know if I've ever been to a better concert by any other musician.
But, remember, I'm obsessed.
I'm Waiting for the Day
The story of Brian Wilson and the Beach Boys is a complicated one, full of the kind of intrigue and infighting that soap operas can only dream about.
Suffice to say that Brian propelled the band to the heights of success in the mid-1960s. His songs, arrangements and falsetto vocals brought the group (made up of his brothers Carl and Dennis, cousin Mike Love and friend Al Jardine) hit after hit. "Surfin' U.S.A.," "Help Me Rhonda," "I Get Around" and dozens of other songs flowed from his piano.
But in 1965 Brian tired of touring, and decided to stay home making the music. The rest of the band would take his songs on the road. The next two years were golden, with Brian producing complex, orchestrated ballads and artful albums that set the music industry on its collective ear.
It all culminated with the 1966 release of Pet Sounds — 13 tracks of harmony-laden beauty still hailed by acts from Sonic Youth to Elton John as one of the best albums of the rock era.
Shortly after the album's release, however, Brian began to withdraw. The rest of the group was less-than-thrilled with his musical experimentation, and a toxic combination of mental illness and drug abuse sidelined Brian for much of the '70s.
Psychotherapy and medication began to have a positive effect on Brian in the '80s and he slowly came out of his shell, writing songs and making occasional live appearances. The Beach Boys, by now defined as a reliable but dull oldies group, tolerated his renewed presence.
Brian's ambitions were greater than the group, however, and he set off on a solo career in 1986. He released albums, gave interviews and appeared at an awards show or two.
All that was missing was an actual solo tour.
In 1999, the word came — Brian was putting together a band and hitting the road. Rave reviews and sold-out shows ensued. This year, the 58-year
old set the even more ambitious goal of performing the entire Pet Sounds album in concert, with orchestral accompaniment. After 30 years of staying away from the concert stage and releasing new material only sporadically, Brian was back in the spotlight.
All I Wanna Do
I was definitely excited.
Last semester, I learned that Brian Wilson was coming to Denver. It was the closest he would come to Kansas.
"I'm going to go," I told my friends and family.
They might have believed me, but I didn't. After all, there were obstacles — I had to get to the city, find a place to stay and actually attend the show. When I came back to the University of Kansas this fall, I decided to go for it and order the ticket. It arrived by mail a week before the show. One obstacle overcome.
Last Wednesday, I drove to the gas station on Sixth street that serves as the Lawrence bus depot and bought a round-trip ticket to Denver. A second obstacle overcome.
I posted on the Brian Wilson Internet mailing list that I was looking for someone to get me to the show once I arrived in Denver. A Casper, Wyo., resident named Cliff Meloy, with whom I traded Beach Boys music in the past, responded. A third obstacle overcome.
"I'm going to go." I told my friends and family again
I kind of believed it. But it wasn't until the bus pulled into the gas station Friday evening that the whole project looked like it might work.
After 12 hours, the bus arrived in Denver. I stumbled off the bus, gawked at the mountains bathed in early-morning sun and thought to myself: My God, this is actually going to happen.
At noon, I connected with Cliff, who was staying at a hotel about 20 minutes away from the depot. We spent the afternoon looking through record shops in the Denver area, oohing and ahing over various Beach Boys-related rarities.
At 5 p.m., we met with some other members of the Brian Wilson mailing list at a bar and grill called Spanky's. Dave Marshall and Scott Rhodes were there — both are members of the Beach Boys parody group Ton Def (famous on the Internet for their interpretation of Sesame Street's "Rubber Ducky, You're the One" to the melody of "Surfer Girl"). Everyone was anticipating the show.
We made our way to the University of Denver's Magnness Arena by 6:30 p.m., holding our breaths for the 7:30 start time. I bought a T-shirt, poster and tour program in the lobby — totaling $65.
I finally found my seat and chatted with the people around me. They were nearly as excited as I was. My obsession — my five years of listening to the music of Brian Wilson — was about to reach a climax.
I sipped on my overpriced cup of diet cola and waited.
Good Vibrations
and then the concert was over.
I had prepared myself for a less-than-stellar evening. After all, in earlier shows Brian had been known to starestonly at a TelePrompTer for most of the concert, leaving the falsetto parts to other members of his band.
And then the concert started.
But from the very start of Saturday night's performance, it was clear this would not be one of those shows. The band's first song was an excerpt from the Barenaked Ladies tune "Brian Wilson." Brian sang the verse straightforwardly, but when the band launched into the chorus, he started swaying back and forth, snapping his fingers with a grin on his face.
For the rest of the night, Brian smiled, made expressive hand motions, directed the band, and swayed along with the music. In other words, he was into it — in his own awkward and endearing way.
"You're a rowdy bunch," he told the audience after one of its many standing ovations. "Thanks folks. No, thank you ladies and gentlemen. You're not folks—you're wonderful people!"
His 10-piece backup band was superb, lighting into the infectious melodies with youthful vigor and enthusiasm. When the 55-piece orchestra backed them on the Pet Sounds songs, the 6,000-seat arena shook with sound.
Swirling around all of the instrumental music were Brian's carefully arranged harmonies, coating the songs with trademark falsetos. And at the center of it all was Brian himself, excited and pleased to finally bring his music to an appreciative crowd.
In his rendition of the 1970 tune "Add Some Music," (which he introduced as having the best lyrics ever written), Brian seemed to directly address the audience.
"Music, when you're alone, is like a companion to your lonely soul," he sang, gesturing at himself and then out to the thousands gathered in the arena. It was impossible not to be touched. These words expressed the singer better than any odd stage patter he used.
Another strange but wonderful moment was during the band's performance of the Pet Sounds tune, "I Just Wasn't Made For These Times."
On the chorus, as Brian sang over and over again,
"Sometimes I feel very sad," he covered his eyes
with his hand. Throughout the entire chorus, he
didn't look at the audience.
Highlights were many. Brian stretched himself vocally — hitting high notes and singing like it was still 1966. He even pulled out a Fender Bass to play during a couple of the encore numbers. By the time he sang the evening's final song, "Love and Mercv." I was exhausted but iovous.
"Good night. Drive safe," he said. The show was over.
He joined hands with his band and bowed.
There's more to the story, of course. Cliff and I excitedly compared notes on the show after it was done. I eventually managed to make it back to Lawrence — after another 12-hour bus ride. But all of that was unimportant.
I'd seen — and experienced — Brian Wilson in concert.
On Sunday, I noticed I had a couple of nasty bruises on my left hand. I wondered what they were from. That evening I finally realized what had caused them.
My applause.
More information
For links to Web sites featuring additional material
about Brian Wilson and the Beach Boys, see:
www.kanean.com
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Essential Beach Boys albums:
Surfer Girl (1963)
All Summer Long (1964)
The Beach Boys Today! (1965)
Pet Sounds (1966)
Wild Honey (1967)
Sunflower (1970)
Holland (1973)
The Beach Boys Love You (1977)
Essential Brian Wilson solo albums:
Brian Wilson(1988)
I Just Wasn't Made for These Times (1995)
Imagination(1998)
Live at the Roxy(2000)
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